


Lonely Man

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-10
Updated: 2001-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-20 11:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Lonely Man

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Lonely Man by Lurkerqueen42

Morticia has allowed me to play in her wonderful XFile universe, The Metamorphosis. This is a stand alone but it will make more sense if you have read her wonderful dark, very dark angsty, heart breaker story. It is not, I repeat not a official sequel to her story. It is a possible outcome of what ifs that fanzine writers love to play with when a writer create a rich world to play in. In fact imho Fanzine writers (should and are) probably in awe when other writers are moved so much that they want to play in thier world. Sometimes the writers say go for it and we (I) can play. Other times writes are flatter but do not want their worlds messed with, which is cool also.  
Mort has loving agreed to let me play and gave me some suggestions, (grin) So here is my story of what if in her world..Mort's sequel is coming when? When she gets around to it, hey guys-ask nice maybe she will move the sequel up her very very long list of projects :-)lq.

Morticia's story, The Metamorphosis, is available here at the Basement or at Morticia's website: http://tpdorm.slashcity.tv/~morticia

Title: Lonely Man  
Author:   
Parts: a stand alone, for now..depending on how I feel.  
Posting: yes, Slashingmulder, the basement, anywhere else ask for, I most probably will say yes and I will be very flatter.  
The usual, CC owns Skinner and Mulder-I am just having lots of fun. Morticia owns OC-Palmer  
Rating: angst, R (but content could be considered NC 17)  
Betas: thanks to Vyper and of cours Mort and HV who without their comments and suggestions the story would have remained unfinished.

* * *

The Lonely Man

Very Early Morning

The radio announcer's voice calmly calls the time to the top of hour as Walter Sergei Skinner listened to the traffic report. The duvet, which stayed folded at the end of his bed, was wrapped around his feet again. Ignoring the usual morning need, Walter bent over and raised the duvet to his nose. It was three years, and he could, if he inhaled deeply, still smell Mulder's scent. Shaking his head forcing himself into the morning ritual, he dressed. Before leaving, he left the cleaning lady her bi-monthly fee for cleaning.

Walter dropped the envolope down on the kitchen table and sighed. One hundred and forty dollars: for what, throwing out the garbage, light dusting and one quick vacuum across the living room, and den? Walter's fridge consisted of frozen dinners and chilled scotch most nights. Grabbing his keys Walter left his silent house and faced another day at the Hoover Building.

Morning

It was 5: 30 a.m. and Deputy Director Skinner had finished several reports and was reviewing some statically abstracts in an attempt to put together a report for a symposium that he was schedule to speak at later in the day. A light tap on the door was sounded. Glancing at the clock, Walter smiled and pressed the release button to allow Kim to enter. 

"Good morning Sir and may I say happy belated birthday!" She placed a small box on his desk while scooping up the files in the out box to be processed.

Walter waited for her to go and took the small box into his hands. He knew what the gift was, she was so predicable, that is probably why he kept her. He wouldn't admit to anyone else that he actually liked her in in a fatherly way. He opened the box and took the glass figurine out of the packaging, placing it with the several that littered his desk already. Walter gazed at the first one he received.

Three Years Ago

A.D. Skinner looked at the calendar, saw that it was Friday and he knew that he had less than 24 hours to call to get Fox. Fox was his responsibility. <"God Damn It. I will not let that bastard take what is mine."> Opening the desk draw, his intent was to pull the card out that Spender had given him. Instead he grabbed Fox's leather collar. In the four months since he had pulled it off his slave, Walter had handled it once a day. Not to remind himself of what he lost but what he had to gain. The implied promise of a quick rise up to the eight floor and a silent agreement to run the X-Files the `right' way. John Doggett was no Fox and his completion ratio was slightly above Fox's. The Director was happy and Spender never stopped in anymore to suggest cases. Which was a good thing; was it not? 

Walter had become a terror in the building, agents and staff quickly got out of his way when he walked down the halls. Reports were on time and no discrepancies were allowed. Agents gulped in relief when they left his office. 

Only Kim had guessed that his foul mood was because Mulder was not around. It seemed that Fox was a sponge to her boss's evil mood. Sitting at her desk, she smiled meekly at the agent who tried vainly to hide his relief as he walked out the A.D's office, <"Okay, Mulder before his dismissal looked like a poster child for a famine relief program. In addition, his god awful `new' suits that fit him, for `fit' was an operative word here; they were made of the cheesiest material. However, when Agent Mulder was in the building Skinner's agents seemed to be happier, because Skinner was happy, "> she thought. 

If Kim had not know, better, she would have sworn that they were lovers. Kim giggled at the thought. < "Yeah, right Mr. He-man of the fifth floor, not with that body, and who would touch Agent Mulder, he just looks like a STD poster for the CDC."> Shaking her head, she signed for the packaged marked confidential, and walked into the room to give the package to her boss.

She quickly placed the package on his desk and reminded him of his 1545 appointment with agents Doggett and Johnson. He nodded, grabbing the package telling her to have hard copies ready for him to review before they came. Nodding, she smiled her best smile and when back to work.

Five minutes later Skinner busted through his front door and told her to prepare forms and "To take care of the details for an emergency leave of absences." He would be back on Monday. Without waiting for her to reply, he was out the door.

The Following Friday

Kim sat at her desk typing reports and signing his name. She would always give him the files and he would read them but he just sigh, growl and stare out the window. Kim did not mind writing the reports but signing them was getting on her nerves. If they found out both would be out of their jobs. She had decided not to say a word, it was Friday. The reports she was writing did not have to be signed and sent up stairs until Monday. She had decided that she would leave them on his desk and politely but firmly tell him that she would want a pay rise if she signed one more report on Monday. 

Quietly walking into her boss's office, clearing her throat, "Sir, it's 18:15 do you want me to stay?"

Skinner seemed to pull himself from a far away place, "Err no, that will be all." Not bothering to turn away from the window, he waited until the door was shut. Reaching into his desk he pulled out Fox's collar. He then went to his wall cabinet and took out the bottle of Glenmoore. Pouring himself a liberal glass of spirits, Walter Skinner sat down on the couch to receive some liquid courage. He impulsively placed Fox's collar around his neck trying to sense what Fox would feel. Not knowing or understanding his desires and only realising that he missed, probably even loved Fox in a perverted way. Walter Skinner utterly failed to grasp the significance of what was around his neck.

What Walter did feel was a panic attack that manifested itself in a constriction of breath that felt as if a full-blown heart attack was racing upon him. Unbuckling the collar and tossing it to the ground, Walter Skinner lost all sense of being civilised; grabbing the glass in one gulp, the fiery liquid hit his stomach. Twenty minutes later, half the bottle was gone. Thirty minutes later, the bottle was empty.

Saturday Night

Walter Skinner woke up at 22 45 hours Saturday-his body though in better shape than the average 48 year old, he was not a kid. Shaking his head, he silently thank the gods that he did not died of alcohol poisoning for the amount of scotch he had consumed in his brief binge clearly would have killed a lesser man.

Looking at his watch and at the clock, Walter watched time move forward. Remembering the look of adoration that Fox had given Spender, Walter wondered, could Fox ever look at him like that again? No, he had blown it. There was a time when Fox did look at him with love. His cock wept at the tenderness that Fox used to give him. Walter sighed in frustration, "I am not like that! I am a Fucking Man, not a sick pain slut like him." His voice was loud yet hollow.

Walter Skinner noticed the time was 2345 hours. Willing himself to be a man, Walter picked up the collar throwing it back into the desk, put his jacket suit on and walked out of his office. Walter never made it home that night. Stopping at the Sugar Daddy Bar, Walter picked up a boy who looked similar to his Fox, but with more weight and proceeded to bang him into the mattress. It was hard, it was brutal, and it was long. The boy earned his C-note that night. In addition, Walter felt like a man. A lonely man.

Monday, two days after the deadline.

Monday morning Kim came into the office ready to do battle. To her surprise the folders where all sighed with annotations to be added into the files. And, low and behold her boss was back. The office never ran smoother. It was efficient and she was the envy of all the other PAs in the building. However, no matter how hot and humid it was outside, the office was always cold. 

On National Boss Appreciation day Kim was on her lunch at the Mall, a street vendor was selling cheap glass figurines, which caught her eye. There in the middle of all the gaudy figurines was a small wolf/dog chasing its tail. Impulsively she paid the vender five dollars and had it gift-wrapped in a cheap tissue paper box

Right before the close of the busy day, she came upon her boss who seems to never go home. She knew that he went home late, near ten and he was in around three or four. She secretly wondered if she could have his energy. There was no way she could keep that pace up. Nevertheless, for the last six months his life revolved around the office, no easy chitchat, and no personal calls-just a cold efficient boss that strived to be the best.

"Err Sir?" Seven months ago, when he was in his foul stage, she found it easier to talk to him. Now, it was awkward, they worked well together, but pleasantries had ceased to be part of the equation in their professional relationship.

"I think you may want to have dinner and I am not taking no for an answer, I've ordered your favorite Chinese and it will be here in 45 minutes. Plus.well, here." She handed him the box. 

Skinner was frankly at a loss until he remembered an internal memo about the `day.' Trying to be a good sport about the day, he politely thanked her for the meal and opened the box, telling her she should not have gone to the trouble. His voice cracked and he held the figurine in his hand. For the first time in months he allowed his feelings to reach his face. It was a cross between tears of joy and tears of shame. Trying to hide his true emotions while thanking her. 

The smile was not forced and Kim realized she had hit a nerve. Feeling good about herself, she left for the weekend. 

That weekend was the second time he visited the Sugar Daddy Bar. This time the boy was paid to be beaten. Skinner gave the boy two C-notes. The boy need it, he was out of commission for the week with the bruises that Walter left. Again, Walter felt like a man, a very lonely man.

Present Time

The buzzer blinked and Walter was shaken out of his revere, punching the button; "Yes, Kim?"

"Just a reminder Sir, the Director wants to see you before you leave, around 10:30." Walter thanked her, and went back to work.

"Jane, I really do not think I need to go down to Miami for this symposium. I just can not see why I can tele-conference on the secure link."

"Walter dear, you need a break it's been how long since you took personal leave? Three and half years ago. You're heading for a stroke or a heart attack You need to relax.

"I can relax here with work to do, Ma'ma." Walter was at a loss to describe his dread to fly to Miami. As Deputy Director, he had flown all over the world. However, somehow he had totally avoided Florida in his travels, and in truth he never wanted to go there. It was a `bad' state, too many memoirs and not all pleasant. As for relaxing, his needs were always under control and if he needed release, well he just paid for the release.

"Walter, look in the envelope please." Walter picked the up the envelope and pulled two tickets to the NCAA final four, front row seats. Walter's surprise was shown by a low whistle. "Ma'ma, with all due respect, how did you get these tickets, it's been sold out for months."

"I got them last May with you in mind Walter, go give the lecture and enjoy--find someone to share those with, and I do not want you back until next Monday, Deputy Director," she stated while turning around to work on her computer, which was a sign that the meeting was at an end. 

Late that same night

The flight was uneventful, the food was even worse than he remembered and he was lonely. The lecture was dry, to the point and over in 90 minutes. It seemed that everyone in the office had tickets to the game and the weekend was upon the city a day early. 

He only vaguely remembered where the club Bizarre was located. Asking the concierge directions, the clerk smiled and put his best smile forward asking him if wanted to wait a couple of hours to get the `personal' tour to the club. Skinner looked at him with a disgusted scowl and stated, "Just the directions, please!"

Getting a mouthful of apologies, and directions, he was informed that it was in the "Arts District with all the cute hobby shops." Checking his watch, noticing it was 8:30 Walter decided to walk around the district and get a meal. He had made up his mind that it would be a liquid meal. Eating was just out of the question.

Going into a dingy bar that looked like a low class hustler's bar-Walter nursed three watered down scotches, turning down two offers for every drink he ordered. When the third drink had been consumed, a boy no older than 16, looking like an AIDS R' Us poster child offer to party with him; he walked out of the smoky bar with no sense of direction, decided to walk with the flow of the crowd.

A couple of streets down he stopped in front of a giant display window with the largest indoor fish tank he had ever seen. Glancing up at the marquee, it read "Fishy Business."

For reasons he did not want to think about, a dry knot worked its way up to his throat. He remembered his Fox's emaciated body in that ridiculous cheap suite hollering, "I hate you" The face swollen trying to eat real food. < "God, I was such a shit."> he thought. < "Those fish really meant something to him, and I just kept fucking with him, pushing him away. Away.right into the bastard's hands,"> on impulse he walked into the store and started to walk through the aisles.

A voice from the past floated through the quiet store, "Sir, please! I really would like to have him, please." The voice did not have its edge anymore; no, it was gone long before he had kicked him out.

"Fox dear, you know the rules, one fish to add to your tank. You choose, and I am not going to do this for you. Fox, it is not wrong to change your mind, I will not think any different of you. It's your allowance, but you have been in here for hours and now you must choose." Palmer patience never faulted, it had taken years to get Mulder to this level of independence. 

Palmer respected doctor and a full time Dom had this job, because one night, long ago he had met this natural sub at a party. Pity had turned to love and he secretly jumped with joy when no phone call was made to him that Saturday night so long ago. He had released his other slave Danny, when he had given a ultimatum. Not realising that Fox was more important and misreading the cues, Danny had stormed out thinking his Dom would come and get him. He was wrong, and Palmer was glade to have only one true slave. 

Palmer eyes watched Fox's body react to his words. He realised that he might have to repeat himself, for Fox was starting to sway back and forth. This only happen now when he spoke to fast or too much data was presented to Fox. Palmer sadly remembered what a basket case Fox was the night he was given to him; it was a miracle that Fox could tie his own sneakers now.

His brilliant mind was gone and in its place was a mind of a small scared child. A sexually charge, very submissive child. Yes, Palmer would grow old with his slave/lover, and he would always be thankful to Spender for the special gift.

It took a long time but slowly Fox recovered. If given limited simple instructions, he could function, hell even hold down a limited job. 

Fox seemed to thrive in the store. The working arrangement with Philippe turned out to be a godsend; Yes, Fox was working for a mere six bucks under the table for his 20 hours a week job. But, the non tangible benefits were that Fox was out of the house and he was slowly, ever so slowly regaining his independence. The job was a source of simple pride to Fox, which in all honesty tickled Palmer to no end.

Palmer secretly enjoyed watching Mulder trying to choose his fish and knick-knaks for his tank. To Palmer, it was a constant sense of joy and amazement that Fox Mulder, one time terror to the Consortium and former top-notch world-renowned profiler could derive basic core pleasures from working and staring at fish tanks for hours. Smiling Palmer studied his slave with a whimsical smile thinking, "One day, when your mind improves hopefully, I must ask him what he sees in those fish?" Clearling his throat Pallmer tenderly said,

"Fox remember what you told me last night and think carefully, now. I am not going to spring for the difference if you go over your budget." 

Palmer smiled, money was relatively no object, but Fox had to learn how to budget and these little exercises though at first were full scaled panic attacks, now seemed to only give him headaches. Which Palmer was beginning to suspect were just a rouse from Fox to receive added attention in the form of a neck and shoulder rubdowns. Palmer smiled, actually he could never get tired of rubbing Fox down, he was so responsive that Palmer was not looking forward to the day when Fox could do simple math again. 

"Hey Foxy, just take both fish and we'll deduct it from your pay for next week, okay." Philippe, the owner/manager of the store suggested encouragingly. Fox his only employee was a kind soul, and did not talk much. In addition, the salary arrangement under the table, worked out just fine. What the IRS did not know, could not hurt him. 

Fox turned to his boss and smiled shyly at him. Turning around to see his Master, he was about to ask if that was all right. Numbers gave him a headache, but if his Master said, "It was okay," he would do that. Then tomorrow after the play session he could spend the rest of the day visiting his fish. Upon opening his mouth, Fox looked up and from the corner of his eyes, saw a shadow from the past that scared him. Freezing in place, Fox then began rocking.

Palmer was quick to realise that something was wrong, telling Fox to heel in a quiet voice. Fox immediately knelt with his head looking directly at his Master as he was trained to do. Palmer knowing Fox would not move even if his life was in danger, scanned the empty shop for the trouble, Philippe was in the front doing the count down of the draw. The only person in the store was a man dressed in the uniform of a government worker. Palmer placed himself in front of Fox, "Who are you?"

Skinner was at a loss for words, not knowing what to do, he immediately went into DD mode. "I am Walter Skinner, err Fox's old boss. And, you?" Not looking at Palmer but gazing down at Fox, Walter had his first look at his lost lover. The words "lost lover" cut into his already tight stomach. The smile and body language before he froze was that of a child, a happy child. Shit, he looked good. Fox was dressed in a nice tailored slacks with a comfortable polo shirt. The colors accentuated his lankey filled body frame. For a brief moment, Walter wondered if he would have ever taken the time to dress him that well. A jolt of sadness shot through his body, < "No, I would have dressed him in the cheapest clothes, just to stress the fact I was in charge."> Feeling guilty for the thought, Walter changed tactics with Fox's apparent Dom.

"Look, I want no trouble from `our' mutual friend. I had no idea Fox was down here. I am on official business for the FBI, and I just came in here to kill some time." Feeling like a complete idiot Walter just stood there for a long moment."Nice to meet you and you are?"

Palmer just stood looking at the man he would have trained, sizing him up, Palmer realised that the man was uncomfortable, <Good> he thought.

"I'm Palmer and you should leave, Fox is not ready to see you and I really do not think he will ever be."

Walter's heart jumped into his throat, looking at this Dom with his quiet control and Fox's loving gaze, Walter knew it was time to leave. Without a word, Walter Skinner turned round and walked up the same way he had came, back into the busy street, back into his empty lonely life. 

Late in the morning, the next day

A knock at the door was constant. The knock felt like his head. < "Shit, the door."> Struggling to get up and not falling over, Walter staggered to the door not checking to see who it was. In front of him was Palmer and behind him was a quiet Fox. Stepping to the side to let them both in, Walter realized he smelt like a whorehouse.

"What do you want and how did you find me?"

"I have friends in the city and else where." Fox never moved more than a foot away from his Master. "Heel." Palmer quietly said, Fox fell to the floor, next to his Master's legs.

"Is this what you want to see, Walter? What it could have been? Palmer had wasted no time in hustling Fox back to their home. After tenderly making love to Fox, and reassuring him repeatedly that he would never be sold, Palmer finally got him to sleep. Palmer called a number he thought he would never have to call. 

He was surprised when Spender told him to see Walter, and to bring Fox along. Palmer was guessing this was a sick game for Spender. Moreover, judging from the longing in Walter's eyes, the joke was on Walter.

"I never knew nor guessed it could be the way you have it with him." Walter was surprised at his honest response to Palmer's question. Realizing he was practically naked, he walked over to the chair to grab his slacks. 

"No, Walter stay the way you are. You have a nice body for a man your age, do not hide it on account of me." Walter stopped and forced himself to sit down on the chair facing Palmer who was still standing.

"What do you want Palmer? I am a busy man." Walter tried to sound relaxed; he felt it was not working. Palmer ignored Walter's question and squatted down to talk to Fox. Palmer hesitated, then turning back to Walter,

"I am going down to get coffee, you have one hour with Fox, try to talk to him. He is very fuzzy with his past life and if he locks up, do not touch him. But, I was told to bring him to you anyway, so here he is." 

Turning back to Mulder, Palmer faced him at eye level, "Fox, it is okay to stand, this man wants to talk you. Understand? Just talk. If he touches you, I will kill him. Do you understand, Fox- just talk. I will be down stairs getting coffee and when we are finish here, we can go home and play! Okay, Fox do you understand?" Palmer had placed his hand tenderly on Fox's face the entire time he was speaking to him. 

"Play?!" Fox's eyes lit up, Play now, not later" Fox leant into his Master hand batting his eyes in a sensual manner.

Skinner watched the entire bi-play while realising that his feeling for Fox had not gone away, he had just pushed them down so deeply into his subconscious, that he was amazed at the jealousy that was steadily rising up through his torn soul.

Palmer looked at Walter and walked out, leaving Fox standing. 

"Well, sit down Fox, I am not going to touch you."

Fox stepped up to the bed and turned around sitting quietly on the edge, looking like a church mouse waiting for the cat to jump. Skinner's eyes search for some hint of recognition in Fox's demeaner, there was no none, finally, he asked, "Fox, do you know who I am?" 

Fox stared at Walter Sergei Skinner, his eyes scanned every each of Walter's body, twenty minutes of unbearable silence, Fox only said, "You're the man who killed my fish."

Walter Segeri Skinner, the terror of the eight floor. The rising star in the bureau, and current front-runner for Jane Cassidy chair in a few years, sat with his mouth open, for twenty minutes while all he could do was repeat in his head the words that Fox said, "The man who killed my fish."

Very quietly, Walter mumbled "Yes, but do you remember anything before that.about us.about your job?" Walter looked at the cheap alarm clock on the nightstand and realised that he had less than twenty minutes with his Fox, and nothing was being resolved. < "Hell, can a lifetime of regret be resolved in twenty minutes?" > A few more minutes past, Walter could see Fox trying to remember; he could see Fox's body slowly rocking gradually picking up speed. Quickly realizing that he was going to lose Fox for good Walter, asked a different question. 

"Fox do you still follow collage hoops?" At that, Fox smiled and started to give all the stats for the two teams, speaking fast and bumbling over his excited explanation such as a child would.

"Palmer stood at the door, smiling. There it was again, a true disconnect; Fox who had trouble remembering events ten days ago could recall with his memory stats for all the teams. Clearly, the mind worked in mysterious ways.

Skinner looked up at Palmer, clearly sadden that the hour was up and nothing was resolved, well maybe one thing, waiting until Fox caught his breath, Skinner gently interjected, "Fox dear, I am truly sorry for hurting your fish. Can you understand that, I am very sorry. Can you accept my apology?"

Like a child, Fox simply nodded and turned his head to see his Master, "Sir, he like hoops too." Getting back into the heel position, Fox waited for his Master to call him. He knew the time had to be up, and he wanted to play. 

Palmer could not help but smile, he could see Fox growing excitement and decided to take him out to eat to his favorite place, Chucky Cheese Pizza Palace after they had their long intense play session.

"Walter, I really do not want to see you again, you had your chance. Let it be, Fox is happy with me." Walter swallowed hard and shook his head in agreement not wanting to test his voice. Palmer snapped his fingers and Fox jumped up suddenly like a puppy rushing to heel next his master. 

"Wait!" Walter shouted. Moving quickly to his jacket, he grabbed the envelope, instinctively he knelt down in a submissive pose; there was no mockery in his gesture. He stretched out his arm slowly like a spring branch, in his hand was the envelope. "I think Sir, Fox and you would enjoy this." 

Palmer opened the envelope and pulled the front row tickets out, the gesture was taken. He smiled at Skinner and patted his head in a friendly gesture. Walter stayed perfectly still until they had left. It was only then that Walter Skinner's soul shouted to the world, his body trembled with the intensity of his sobs. Broken and alone, Walter Skinner finally admitted to the world he was a lonely man.

The following Monday morning late, Hoover Building

The smell was not forgotten, "What do you want?" Skinner growled.

Spender flicked his ashes on the ground. "The question is what do you want Walter, you have everything you've every wanted, but what do you want? It is a pity, to grow old and die alone. Nevertheless, those are the choices we make for ourselves. You have to ask yourself sometimes, `Is this my life, could I have had better?' I think you know what I want, which coincides with your needs." 

Placing a card on the end of his desk, Spender stated as he walked out, "You have until tonight, and maybe when I am gone or he his gone, you can have what you want, but you'll never know unless you are willing to not be alone.

Later that night

Walter fed the one fish in the tiny fish bowel. Walter vowed to get Fox a new home later in the week, but now he had choices to make. The implied promise was Fox, the real Fox. He would take that chance not to grow old alone. Thinking of Fox and the way his eyes shone with absloute devotion when he looked at Palmer. Skinner's belief was that one-day Fox would gaze lovely at him, the same way.

Near Midnight

Kneeling down in the living room, naked Walter waited for the door to open. It was unlocked as per the instructions. The smoke over powered the scent of the lemon freshener that the cleaning lady used.

"Well, Walter, lets see what you're made of." A grin formed over his dour expressionless face.

"Walter inhaled deeply and said simply, "Yes Sir, let the training begin."

The end or the beginning.

  
Archived: May 08, 2001 


End file.
